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<text> <title> (1987) The Child-Care Dilemma </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1987 Highlights </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> June 22, 1987 LIVING The Child-Care Dilemma </hdr> <body> Millions of U.S. families face a wrenching question: Who's minding the kids? The smell of wet paint wafts through the house on a tree-lined street on Chicago's North Side. Marena McPherson, 37, chose a peach tint for the nursery, a gender-neutral color. But the paint had a will of its own and dried a blushing shade of pink. Ah well, no time to worry about that. With the baby due in less than a month, there are too many other concerns. Like choosing a name, furnishing the baby's room, and reading up on infant care and attending childbirth classes. Above all, McPherson must tackle the overriding problem that now confronts most expectant American mothers. Who will care for this precious baby when she returns to work? An attorney who helps run a Chicago social-service agency, McPherson has accumulated two months of paid sick leave and vacation time. She plans to spend an additional four months working part time, but then she must return to her usual full schedule. So for several months she has been exhaustively researching the local child-care scene. The choices, she has learned, are disappointingly few. Only two day-care centers in Chicago accept infants; both are expensive, and neight appeals. "With 20 or 30 babies, it's probably all they can do to get each child's need met," says McPherson. She would prefer having a baby-sitter come to her home. "That way there's a sense of security and family." But she worries about the cost and reliability; "People will quit, go away for the summer, get sick." In an ideal world, she says, she would choose someone who reflects her own values and does not spend the day watching soaps. "I suspect I will have to settle for things not being perfect." That anxiety has become a standard rite of passage for American parents. Beaver's family, with Ward Cleaver off to work in his suit and June in her apron in the kitchen, is a vanishing breed. Less than a fifth of American families now fit that model, down from a third 15 years ago. Today more than 60% of mothers with children under 14 are in the labor force. Even more striking about half of American women are making the same painful decision as McPherson and returning to work before their child's first birthday. Most do so because they have to; seven out of ten working mothers say they need their salaries to make ends meet. With both Mom and Dad away at the office or store or factory, the child-care crunch has become the most wrenching personal problem facing millions of American families. In 1986, 9 million preschoolers spent their days in the hands of someone other than their mother. Millions of older children participate in programs providing after-school supervision. As American women continue to pour into the work force, the trend will accelerate. "We are in the midst of an explosion," says Elinor Guggenheimer, president of the Manhattan-based Child Care Action Campaign. In ten years, she predicts, the number of children under six who will need daytime supervision will grow more than 50%. Says Jay Belsky, a professor of human development at Pennsylvania State University: "We are as much a society dependent on female labor, and thus in need of a child-care system, as we are a society dependent on the automobile, and thus in need of roads. At the moment, though, the American child-care system--to the extent that there is one--is riddled with potholes. Throughout the country, working parents are faced with a triple quandary: day care is hard to find, difficult to afford and often of distressingly poor quality. Waiting lists at good facilities are so long that parents apply for a spot months before their children are born. Or even earlier. The Empire State Center in Farmingdale, N.Y., received an application from a woman attorney a week after she became engaged to marry. Apparently she hoped to time her pregnancy for an anticipated opening. The Jeanne Simon Center in Burlington, Vt., has a folder of applications labeled "preconception." Finding an acceptable day-care arrangement is just the beginning of the struggle. Parents must then maneuver to maintain it. Michele Theriot of Santa Monica, Calif., a 37-year-old theatrical producer, has been scrambling ever since her daughter Zoe was born 2 1/2 years ago. In that short period she has employed a Danish au pair, who quit after eight months; a French girl, who stayed 2 1/2 months; and an Iranian, who lasted a week. "If you get a good person, it's great," says Theriot, "but they have a tendency to move on." Last September, Theriot decided to switch Zoe into a "family-care" arrangement, in which she spends seven hours a day in the home of another mother. Theriot toured a dozen such facilities before selecting one. "I can't even tell you what I found out there," she bristles. In one home the "kids were all lined up in front of the TV like a bunch of zombies." At another she was appalled by the filth. "I sat my girl down on the cleanest spot I could find and started interviewing the care giver. And you know what she did?" asks the incredulous mother. "She began throwing empty yogurt cups at my child's head. As though that was playful!" Theriot is none too sure that the center she finally chose is much better. Zoe's diapers aren't always changed, instructions about giving medicine are sometimes ignored and worse, "she's stared having nightmares." En route to day care on a recent day, Zoe cried out, "No school! No school!" and became distraught. It is time, Theriot concludes to start the child-care search again. Fretting about the effects of day care on children has become a national preoccupation. What troubles lie ahead for a generation reared by strangers? What kind of adults will they become? "It is scaring everybody that a whole generation of children is being raised in a way that has never happened before," says Edward Zigler, professor of psychology at Yale and an authority on child care. At least one major survey of current research, by Penn State's Belsky, suggests that extensive day care in the first year of life raises the risk of emotional problems, a conclusion that has mortified already guilty working parents. With high-quality supervision costing upwards of $100 a week, many families are placing their children in the hands of untrained, over-worked personnel. "In some places, that means one woman taking care of nine babies," says Zigler. "Nobody doing that can give them the stimulation they need. We encounter some real horror stories out there, with babies being tied to cribs." The U.S. is the only Western industrialized nation that does not guarantee a working mother the right to a leave of absence after she has a child. Although the Supreme Court ruled last January that states may require businesses to provide maternity leaves with job security, only 40% of working women receive such protection through their companies. Even for these, the leaves are generally brief and unpaid. This forces many women to return to work sooner than they would like and creates a huge demand for infant care, the most expensive an difficult child-care service to supply. The premature separation takes a personal toll as well, observes Harvard Pediatrician T. Berry Brazelton, heir apparent to Benjamin Spock as the country's preeminent guru on child rearing. "Many parents return to the workplace grieving." New York City Police Officer Janis Curtin resumed her assignment in south Queens just eight weeks after the birth of Peter. The screaming sirens and shrill threats of street thugs were just background noise to a relentless refrain in her head: "Who can I trust to care for my child?" She tried everything, from leaving Peter at the homes of other mothers to handing him over to her police-officer husband at the station house door when they worked alternating shifts. With their schedules in constant flux, there were snags every step of the way. Curtin was more fortunate than most workers: police-department policy allows a year of unpaid "hardship" leave for child care. She decided to invoke that provision. The absence of national policies to help working mothers reflects traditional American attitudes: old-fashioned motherhood has stood right up there with the flag and apple pie in the pantheon of American ideals. To some people day-care centers, particularly government-sponsored ones, threaten family values; they seem a step on the slippery slope toward an Orwellian socialist nightmare. But such abstract concerns have largely receded as the very concrete need for child care is confronted by people from all walks of life. Child care is fast emerging as a political issue. At least three Democratic presidential candidates have been emphasizing the need for better facilities and calling for federal action. Former Arizona Governor Bruce Babbitt has proposed that the U.S. Government establish a voucher system to help low-income parents pay for day care. Delaware Senator Joseph Biden favors federal child-care subsidies for the working poor and tax incentives to encourage businesses to provide day care. If elected, he vows, he will set up a center for White House employees as an example to other employers. Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis, who was established the country's most comprehensive state-supported day-care system, would like to see the Federal Government fund similar programs throughout the U.S. Last week the issue surfaced on Capitol Hill. In the House, Republican Nancy Johnson of Connecticut and Democrat Cardiss Collins of Illinois introduced legislation to establish a national clearing house for information on child-care services. A Senate subcommittee began hearings focused on the shortage of good-quality, affordable day care. Says Chairman Christopher Dodd of Connecticut: "It's about time we did something on this critical problem." Without much federal help, the poorest mothers are caught in a vise. Working is the only way out of poverty, but it means putting children into day care, which is unaffordable. "The typical cost of full-time care is about $3,000 a year for one child, or one-third of the poverty-level income for a family of three," says Helen Blank of the Children's Defense Fund in Washington. As a result, many poor mothers leave their young children alone for long periods or entrust them to siblings only slightly older. Others simply give up on working. Rosalind Dove, 29, of Los Angeles, is giving it her best shot. A single mother of four, she worked for five years as a custodian in a public high school, bringing home $1,000 in a good month. "I was paying $400 a month for child care," she recalls. "We didn't buy anything." When that failed, she began bringing her children to work with her, hiding them in an empty home-economics classroom while she mopped floors and hauled huge barrels of trash for eight hours a day. "I'd sneak them in after the teacher left and check on them every 30 minutes or so." She finally quit last February and slipped onto the welfare rolls. She applied for state child-care assistance only to learn there were 3,000 others on the waiting list. Frustrated, she returned to work this month. "Don't ask me how I'm going to manage," she says. Child care has always been an issue for the working poor. Traditionally, they have relied on neighbors or extended family and, in the worst of times, have left their children to wander in the streets or tied to the bedpost. In the mid-19th century the number of wastrels in the streets was so alarming that charity-minded society ladies established day nurseries in cities around the country. A few were sponsored by employers. Gradually, local regulatory boards began to discourage infant care, restrict nursery hours and place emphasis on a kindergarten or Montessori-style instructional approach. The nurseries became nursery schools, no longer suited to the needs of working mothers. During World War II, when women were mobilized to join wartime industry, day nurseries returned, with federal and local government sponsorship. Most of the centers vanished in the postwar years, and the Donna Reed era of the idealized nuclear family began. Two historic forces brought an end to that era, sweeping women out of the home and into the workplace and creating a new demand for child care. First came the feminist movement of the '60s, which encouraged housewives to seek fulfillment in a career. Then economic recessions and inflation struck in the 1970s. Between 1973 and 1983, the median income for young families fell by more than 16%. Suddenly the middle-class dream of a house, a car and three square meals for the kids carried a dual-income price tag. "What was once a problem only of poor families has now become a part of daily life and a basic concern of typical American families," says Sheila B. Kamerman, a professor of social policy and planning at Columbia University and co-author of Child Care: Facing the Hard Choices. Some women are angry that the feminist movement failed to foresee the conflict that would arise between work and family life. "Safe, licensed child care should have been as prominent a feminist rallying cry as safe, legal abortions," observes Joan Walsh, a legislative consultant and essayist in Sacramento. In the early 1970s, there was a flurry of congressional activity to provide child care funds for the working poor and regulate standards. But under pressure from conservative groups, Richard Nixon vetoed a comprehensive child-development program in 1971, refusing, he said, to put the Government's "vast moral authority" on the side of "communal" approaches to child rearing. The Reagan Administration has further reduced the federal role in child care. In inflation-adjusted dollars, funding for direct day-care subsidies for low- and middle-income families has dropped by 28%. California, Minnesota, Massachusetts, New York and Connecticut are among the few states that have devoted considerable resources to improving child-care programs. Most states have done virtually nothing. Thirty-three have lowered their standards and reduced enforcement for licenses day-care centers. As of last year, 23 states were providing fewer children with day care than in 1981. Nor have American businesses stepped in to fill the void. "They acknowledge that child care is an important need, but they don't see it as their problem," says Kamerman. Of the nation's 6 million employers, only about 3,000 provide some sort of child-care assistance. That is up from about 100 in 1978, but most merely provide advice or referrals. Only about 150 employers provide on-site or near-site day-care centers. "Today's corporate personnel policies remain stuck in a 1950s time warp," charges David Blankenhorn, director of the Manhattan-based Institute for American Values. "They are rooted in the quaint assumption that employees have 'someone at home' to attend to family matters." There are basically three kinds of day care in the U.S. For children under five, the most common arrangement is "family" or "home-based" care, in which toddlers are minded in the homes of other mothers. According to a Census Bureau report called Who's Minding the Kids, 37% of preschool children of working mothers spend their days in such facilities. An additional 23% are in organized day-care centers or preschools. The third type of arrangement, which prevails for older children and for 31% of those under five, is supervision in the child's own home by a nanny, sitter, relative or friend. Home-based groups are popular primarily because they are affordable, sometimes costing as little as $40 a week. The quality depends on the dedication of the individual mothers, many of whom are busy not only with their paid charges but with their own children as well. Darlene Daniels, 31, a single mother of three in Chicago, has been through four such sitters in six months. Two proved too expensive and careless for Daniels, who was earning $7 an hour as a janitor; another robbed her. "For most people, it's not their own kids, and they're just looking at the dollar sign," she complains. Only eight states have training requirements for home-based centers. Regulations governing the ratio of attendants to tots vary widely. In Maryland there must be one adult for every two children under age two. But in Georgia each adult is allowed to care for up to ten children under age two and, in Idaho, twelve. A private nanny or au pair usually assures a child more individual attention. Professional couples, who must work long hours or travel, often find that such live-in arrangements are the only practical solution, though the cost can exceed $300 a week. However, most live-in sitters in the U.S., unlike the licensed nannies of Britain, have no formal training. Many speak English poorly, and agencies frequently do a cursory job of screening them. A Dallas mother who asked an attorney friend to run a check on her newly hired nanny was told the woman was wanted for writing bad checks. "People need a license to cut your hair but not to care for your child," observes Elaine Claar Campbell, a Chicago investment banker. She and her lawyer-husband Ray, armed with five pages of questions, spent three months interviewing more than 50 people, before settling on Clara Hawkes, 47, an artist from Santa Fe whose own daughter is a National Merit Scholar. "You don't want to gamble with your child," says Ray. Au pairs, usually European girls between 18 and 25, are less expensive, receiving an average of $100 a week plus room and board. Most stay only a year, and few have legal working papers. The immigration law that took effect this month will make the employers of such workers liable for fines up to $10,000, though the Immigration and Naturalization Service does not plan an aggressive crackdown on domestic help. Concerns about legality have led more families to hire American au pairs--frequently teenage girls from the Midwest and often Mormons. "We Mormons come from big families, so we have experience with kids," explains Karen Howell, 19, a Californian who is spending a year with a Washington, D.C. family. "We don't drink, and we know the meaning of hard work." Two agencies--the Experiment in International Living and the American Institute for Foreign Study--have Government permission to bring in 3,100 European au pairs a year on cultural-exchange visas. Although the programs are more expensive than traditional au pair arrangement, host families are assured that their helpers are legal. The professional day-care center is the fastest-growing option for working parents. There are an estimated 60,000 around the country, about half nonprofit and half operated as businesses. Costs vary widely, from $40 a week to as much as $120. In the best centers, children are cared for by dedicated professionals. At the nonprofit Empire State center in Farmingdale, N.Y., teachers make up lesson plans even for infants. Empire, which receives partial funding from New York State, keeps parents closely informed of their child's development. "If a child takes a first step, develops in the least, the parent is called," says Director Ana Fontana. Not all day-care centers are so conscientious. Day-care staffers rank in the lowest 10% of U.S. wage earners, a fact that contributes to an average turnover rate of 36% a year. Says Caroline Zinsser of the Center for Public Advocacy Research in Manhattan: "It says something about our society's values that we pay animal caretakers more than people who care for our children." Gilda Ongkeko is delighted with the quality of the Hill an' Dale Family Learning Center in Santa Monica, Calif., attended by Jason, 4. In her job as owner of a preschool-supply company, she has come to appreciate how unusual it is. "I've been to over 1,000 child-care centers," she says, "and I'd say that 90% of them should be shut down. It's pathetic." Experts worry that a two-tier system is emerging, with quality care available to the affluent, and everyone else settling for less. "We are at about the same place with child care as we were when we started universal education," says Zigler of Yale. "Then some kids were getting Latin and Greek and being prepared for Harvard, Yale and Princeton. Other kids were lucky if they could learn to write their own name." In 1827 Massachusetts led the way to universal education by becoming the first state to require towns with 500 or more families to build high schools. Now it is showing the way to universal child care. Aided by a booming economy, the state has worked out a program with employers, school boards, and unions and nonprofit groups to encourage the expansion and improvement of child-care facilities. Small companies and groups can receive low-interest loans from the state to build day-care facilities. Funds are earmarked for creating centers in public housing projects. School systems can get financial aid for after-school programs. A statewide referral network serves both individual parents and corporations looking for child care. Emilia Davis, 38, of Boston's working-class Roslindale section, is the beneficiary of another of the state's far-reaching programs. After years of dependence on welfare to support herself and her five children, Davis, who is separated from her husband, is now going to college with the ultimate hope of finding a job. The state's E.T. (employment and training) program provides her with vouchers for day care in the public housing complex where she lives. "Child care is an absolute precondition if one is serious about trying to help people lift themselves out of poverty," insists Governor Dukakis. Though the state will spend an estimated $27 million on day care under the E.T. program this year--and a total of $101 million on all child-care related services--it claims to have saved $121 million in welfare costs last year alone. Next month the sate will begin a pilot program that will pay 20% to 40% of child-care costs for 150 working-class families. San Francisco has adopted another innovative approach. It requires developers of major new commercial office and hotel space to include an on-site child-care center or pay $1 per sq. ft. of space to the city's child-care fund. The state of California is spending $319 million this year on child-care subsidies for 100,000 children. It also funds a network of 72 resource and referral agencies. Because such state programs are the exception, a number of political leaders and lobbying groups are calling for federal intervention. This summer a coalition of 64 groups--including the National Federal of Teachers and the Child Welfare League of America--will propose a comprehensive national child-care bill, which will probably call for increased support to help low- and moderate-income families pay for child care. Legislation has already been introduced in both houses of Congress to create a national parental-leave policy. In an era of towering federal deficits, much of the future initiative will have to come from the private sector. By the year 2000, women will make up half the work force. Says Labor Secretary Bill Brock: "We still act as though workers have no families. Labor and management haven't faced that adequately, or at all." A few companies are in the forefront. Merck & Co., a large pharmaceutical concern based in Rahway, N.J., invested $100,000 seven years ago to establish a day-care center in a church less than two miles from its headquarters. Parents pay $550 a month for infants and $385 for toddlers. Many spend lunch hours with their children. "I can be there in four minutes," says Steven Klimczak, a Merck corporate-finance executive whose three-year-old daughter attends the center. "It's very reliable, and that's important in terms of getting your job done." Elsewhere in the country, companies have banded together to share the costs of providing day-care services to employees. A space in Rich's department store in downtown Atlanta serves the children of not only its own employees but also of workers at the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta, the First National Bank of Atlanta, Georgia-Pacific and the Atlanta Journal and Constitution newspapers. Businesses that have made the investment in child care say it pays off handsomely by reducing turnover and absenteeism. A large survey has shown that parents lose an average of eight days a year from work because of child-care problems and nearly 40% consider quitting. Studies at Merck suggest that the company also saves on sick leave due to stress-related illness. "We have got an awful lot of comments from managers about lessened stress and less unexpected leave time," says Spokesman Art Strohmer. At Stride Rite Corp., a 16-year-old, on-site day-care center in Boston and a newer one at the Cambridge headquarters have engendered unusual company loyalty and low turnover. "People want to work here, and child care seems to be a catalyst," says Stride Rite Chairman Arnold Hiatt. "To me it is as natural as having a clean-air policy or a medical benefit." The generation of workers graduating from college today may find themselves in a better position. They belong to the "baby-bust" generation, and their small numbers, says Harvard Economist David Bloom, will force employers to be creative in searching for labor. Child-care arrangements, he says, will be the "fringe benefits of the 1990s." The economics of the situation, if nothing else, will provoke a change in the attitude of business, just as the politics of the situation is changing the attitude of government. In order to attract the necessary women--and men--employers are going to have to help them find ways to cope more easily with their duties as parents. -- By Claudia Wallis. Reported by Jon D. Hull/Los Angeles, Melissa Ludtke/Boston and Elizabeth Taylor/Chicago. </body> </article> </text>